


the ringing in your ears, it’s a broken melody

by blueseakelp



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bonding, Child Abuse, Destructive Behaviors, F/F, F/M, Gen, Hakoda and Bato are Good Parents, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Aang/Katara, Minor Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Minor Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), Minor Yue/Suki, Miscommunication, Music school AU, Past Jet/Zuko (Avatar), Past Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Past Sokka/Yue (Avatar), Swearing, Trauma, and also hates it, and hates it, azula plays the harp, he likes the cello though, i can’t believe i actually forgot to tag that i’m sorry, i shall tag more later as i remember them, im so bad at tags help, it’s sort of a boarding school/private school/pathway school situation, jet isn’t dead here., like a shit ton of it, no beta we die, so is kanna, sokka busks with his self taught guitar skills, sokka gets an engineering scholarship to school, sokka is extremely smart but what’s new?, the author has zero braincells, the gaang adopts zuko basically, we just die., zuko plays the piano
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29018544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueseakelp/pseuds/blueseakelp
Summary: It was supposed to be a one-time meet. Zuko didn’t expect to see Sokka again, with his beat-up sneakers and rough voice that reminds him of belonging. And at school, of all places.It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. Zuko can’t afford distractions right now, not on the brink of his official debut playing the piano, and not under his father’s watchful eye.All the practicing and the performing, this isn’t the life he wants to live, he knows that. But, for now, does it hurt so much to just pretend?~~~~~a zukka modern school au, with a side of found family because this boy so desperately needs it
Relationships: Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Ozai & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Suki (Avatar), Sokka & The Gaang (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Yue (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 46





	1. in which zuko is Obviously not the main character, what are you talking about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello to everybody! it is almost 1 in the am and i am back on my bullshit. this time with a zukka music school au, except it’s so much more complicated than it needs to be! (and they were idiots! oh my god they were idiots!)
> 
> hopefully it doesn’t disappoint :)

It still doesn't sound right. 

Zuko sighs and buries his head in his hands. He can't decide if continuing this song is still worth it; the bassline is too obvious, the beat is way more high-energy than he would like, and the piano notes hit in exactly the wrong places no matter how he adjusts them. And besides, he's already using another goddamn loop for the _melody_ , of all things, making it barely his work to begin with. Even with the hours of effort Zuko put into it last night, everything sounds wrong and clangy. 

Maybe he should give up and start over.

He's going to have to scrap all of it anyway, if he's ever going to be satisfied.

_Fuck_ _._

Zuko lifts his head to take another swig of coffee. He does it like he's drinking alcohol, heavy handed and sloppy, almost banging the thermos against the metal table when he sets it back down. Sometimes, privately, he likes to pretend he's drunk, more to cope with the fact that he _can't_ drink away his shitty life than anything else. 

And then he remembers Azula, and metaphorically sobers the fuck up.

Zuko checks the time, cursing under his breath, because of _course_ he forgot they were meeting for practice. His fingers twitch in dread, already preparing to dance the whole day away across expensive ivory keys, straight into his nightmares. Would Azula call their father if he skipped? 

Bad question, she's probably already called him about the--Zuko glances at his watch--approximately 45 minutes he's already been missing. _Shit._

Zuko hurriedly packs up his things, tearing his earbuds out and shoving them into his bag with his notebooks and laptop. Thankfully, Ba Sing Se's campus is close enough to walk to from the coffee shop he's working at. He'll probably be another twenty minutes late though, by the time he gets there. He texts Azula.

**To: Azula [6:47]**

**I'm on my way.**

**From: Azula [6:47]**

**You'd better be.**

Huffing as he hoists his bag onto his back, Zuko sets his GPS for the school, not trusting his sense of direction to get him there correctly. Across the street, a busker catches his eye, setting up to catch the morning coffee flow. He's tall, with dark skin and pretty hair, and he's wearing a soft-looking hoodie with a homemade-ish painting of the moon on it. He doesn't have any fancy equipment, but he drapes various trinkets over his open guitar case, and winks to the strangers on the street who stop and stare at him. 

(Zuko wants to be winked at like that.)

The guy's guitar looks like it's weathered a storm, scratched up and covered in tacky stickers, and before he even opens his mouth to sing, Zuko thinks he has the type of voice for falling in love.

_Now is not the time to get distracted by attractive strangers. Places to go, Zuko._

He quickly snaps out of it, physically shaking his head to clear his mind. Starting the GPS route, he lets the mechanical voice guide him all the way back to practice room hell.

~~~~~

"Where were you? We've been waiting for over an hour now, Zuzu."

"Don't call me that," Zuko mutters, dumping his bag on the floor unceremoniously. 

Azula raises her eyebrows at him from where she sits, perched on the chair beside her harp as if it's a fucking _throne_ , Mai and Ty Lee flanking her. 

He jerks his head at the three of them, acutely aware of his rudeness but not quite caring. "Why did you bring them along, just to embarrass me further?" He's being an asshole. Both Mai and Ty Lee hold their own instruments, ready to provide accompaniment.

Zuko can see the impatience written in the thin creases across Azula's face. "I haven't called Father yet."

_Yet._

"I was studying and lost track of time."

Azula slightly narrows her eyes, but Zuko crosses his arms, daring her to question him on it. She must've had a rough night, because she concedes more quickly than he expected.

"After last year's grades, you need it." 

Zuko can hear the self-satisfied note in her voice, and turns towards the piano so she can't see him roll his eyes. "I can't imagine why it matters to you, since you seem to thrive off of my failure."

Zuko's fingers graze softly across the shiny black lid, lifting it up to reveal perfectly kept keys. He wants to see them break, play them hard enough that they smash in and he'd have some excuse to finally quit.

(Ignoring the fact that it's not his personal instrument and he'd have to pay for it, Azula would only make him move to the next practice room, the next piano.)

And that's it, anyways. It's always the next piano, the next piece, the next performance, when all he wants to do is _stop_. Zuko is so tired of hating the music. The beautiful music and the ear-scraping music both. It was never supposed to be _theirs_ , it was going to be something of his own, but that's apparently too much for someone like him to ask for. Ozai's son, _Ursa's_ son, and Azula's brother, he'll never be allowed to live a life of his own.

Zuko pulls out the piano bench to sit, before realizing that he doesn't have his sheet music. Mentally cursing, he shuffles back over to his bag, hoping that by some amazing stroke of luck he packed it to take with him. He's not lucky.

"I forgot my sheet music." Zuko grits his teeth as he says it, unwilling to turn and face whatever mocking smirk Azula's plastered on her face. 

"Unfortunate. You should have it memorized by now, if you've even been practicing." 

Zuko tenses in the hanging silence. What is he supposed to say? He turns his head to catch a quick glance at her, but she's not even looking at him, busy studying her nails intently, as if they've offended her. They probably have.

"Well?" Azula keeps her expression impassive, but he can hear the eyebrow raise in her voice. "Go print it, Zuzu."

He hates being the stupid one. Zuko hoists his bag up on his shoulder and walks out of the room without sparing a glance back.

~~~~~

Ba Sing Se's library has a deep chill to it, the saturating coldness of the air conditioning left on too long. It's nice to walk alone into the empty room, the lights still off, the silence thick and warm against the icy air. Zuko can hear his own steady heartbeat thrumming in his ears, and as he walks through the aisles of bookshelves he thinks this place is as close he'll ever come to a holy experience. 

(It's a stupid thing to think, at such a mundane moment.) 

His shoes are soft and muted on the thin carpet, descending to the slightly lowered printer floor. Everytime he comes here, it always strikes him, the stark contrast between the old and reaching ceiling painted with dark colors, the masterfully carved shelves stained with the color of new books, and the ugly-loud machinery of the printer room. The old and the new. Balanced, yet still a finger's reach from each other. 

Oil and water. 

Zuko and his piano are the same, like oil and water. He can shake himself up to kingdom come trying to tie his fingers to the keys, but like a tapestry with a loose thread it all comes apart so quickly to grasp angrily back at him. To cut off his circulation and leave him bleeding dry. It's so often an occurrence that he's learnt to bask in the unraveling, because if nothing else, at least his pain is fucking _pretty_.

He opens his laptop, glaring at the unsaved song that was the beginning of all this. Zuko closes out the software with an angry too-forceful click and immediately regrets it. It's not anyone else he's spitting by throwing away his own hard work, but _Agni_ , he wishes it was. His small rebellions mean nothing to anyone but himself, less of a spectacle than tiny paper cuts in his hands. He opens the sheet music files that Azula sent him a few months ago and sets them up to download, connecting his laptop to the printer as he waits. 

This will be their debut performance. Ozai had always planned for them to showcase their talents publically, and now he's gotten the school to agree to advertise it, mostly because of Ozai's hefty...sponsorships. Between the endorsement from the school and being the children of a billionaire, the concert is likely to get significant media coverage. Just the thought of it makes Zuko's insides twist, but it's been too late to back out since the day he first touched a piano. 

Zuko glances at the music as it glides hot out of the printer. Mozart for Azula, Chopin for him, and one work from both Debussy and Hisaishi for their combined performances. Not to mention the Vivaldi's Four Seasons performance that will be the highlight of the show, with Zuko playing Spring and Winter on piano, and Azula playing Summer and Autumn on her harp. The no doubt quick changes in mood that he’s going to have to keep up with already feels exhausting.

Zuko's practiced enough over the summer that he can play most of the pieces with an acceptable level of skill, but memorization is the bane of his existence. Hence, the sheet music. With the showcase coming up in December, he knows he should be further along, but most days he can't bring himself to even look at a piano, let alone play it. Azula is upset, she's made that clear, but the angry calls from Ozai haven't been increasing in number so he thinks he's safe so far in that regards. 

(Zuko wonders if it's because she cares about him or if she just doesn't want to risk shouldering the blame.)

He snatches the last of the papers from the printer, and shuts down his laptop. Careful not to wrinkle the music, Zuko smooths it into his notebook. Holding it in his arms, he trudges back down the linoleum halls to the practice room, grateful that the fluorescent lights are still turned down low. 

~~~~~

"Zuzu, are you even trying?" 

It's the fifth time he's messed up this stanza. The piece isn't even hard, and he's barely featured. There's a reason why it's the full orchestra intermission piece. And yet.

Zuko can sit here and make excuses all day. It's nearly 2 pm and they've been working on this particular piece for over an hour. His brain is fried and he has to keep his eyes from unfocusing when he tries to read the sheet music. He's getting sloppy with Azula and Mai and Ty Lee watching him like hawks. 

None of this changes the fact that he _will_ perform this, with an audience of thousands watching, with his father breathing down his back and waiting for him to make a mistake. He can't afford to slip in a simple practice session.

"Maybe we should take a break," Ty Lee suggests, with her usually aloof smile but eyes slightly darting between Zuko and Azula. "We've been rehearsing for _hours_ now."

Azula tilts her head as if considering the idea and levels Zuko with a sweet mean smile. "Do you need a break? We have been rehearsing for _hours_ now, I'm sure you're tired."

Her eyes flick quickly to her phone, and Zuko clenches his jaw at the blatant intentionality. There's a correct answer here and she knows he knows it. A practice break feels too simple a thing to battle her over, and yet it's deeper than that.

"I'm perfectly fine, Azula."

Ty Lee sets down her flute, smiling with her eyes entirely too tight, tugging on Mai's sleeve until she sets down her own violin. "Well, suit yourself! We're going to go get something to eat." And with that she takes Mai's hand and drags her out of the room.

Azula watches them go with an almost bored look. "Good riddance then. We don't need them to practice this piece. Zuzu?' She starts the metronome and takes up a starting position. 

Zuko turns back to the piano with a sigh caged behind his lips.

~~~~~

It's almost six in the evening, and Zuko is dead inside. Azula's saying something about practice and failure, but the only thing his stupid brain latches onto is "We're done for the night."

"Are you even listening to me?" she snaps at him. 

"No," he answers honestly, and she rolls her eyes.

"Hopeless. Go home, and if you don't come back to practice sometime this week I'm going to call Father. Send me a video or something."

Zuko keeps quiet as she exits the room, her shoes clicking sharply on the floor. She left her harp here, but it doesn't really matter. They're essentially the only users of this particular practice room, anyway. ~~Sometimes Zuko wonders if Azula hates her harp just as much as he hates his piano.~~ He's already dreading the prospect of more practice. His fingers hurt and he's fighting not to just shake his hands out for a minute. 

This fucking day. 

It's already close to dark, the sun low on the horizon, but Zuko doesn't have a car or money for transportation (and he'll choke before he asks Azula to take him home), so he opts to just walk. The GPS says it'll be take him at least 45 minutes to get home though, probably longer if he keeps dragging his feet like this. 

It could be worse. 

~~~~~

Feeling his phone ring from his pocket, Sokka hastily finishes his next song and takes a short intermission, flashing a smile to the passersby listening to him play. He checks the screen to see a missed call from Katara and quickly calls her back.

"Hi, are we still on for tonight?" she asks him. It's their friend group's annual Fuck School night that they have every Saturday on the last weekend of summer vacation. Sokka's been a bit busier than normal lately, with preparations for a new school and all, but he wouldn't miss it for the world.

"Hell yeah, what time can you pick me up?" Sokka asks. He made the mistake of walking here, underestimating just how long he would busk for, and he _probably_ should've taken his car. Judging by the colors bleeding across the sky in sunset, it's later than he realized.

He can hear Suki and Toph shouting in the background of the call, and Aang laughing along to their antics. "What time are you done? We can swing by in about fifteen minutes." 

"Sounds good to me," Sokka says, going to hang up, before remembering something. "Wait! Can you bring me some bubble tea?" He suddenly hears excited Aang noises in the background, and Katara muffles the phone for a moment before putting it on speaker.

"Hi, Sokka! We're going to the Jasmine Dragon!" Aang yells into the phone, and Sokka winces, pulling it away from his ear. A few people look at him funny as they pass and Sokka pointedly turns the volume down.

"That's great buddy."

Katara huffs, feigning annoyance. "You've created a monster, Sokka. I hope you're happy now."

"You _love_ me!" Aang argues, teasing. Sokka hears a muffled noise and then an "Owww." Sokka can practically see Aang fighting back a smile at Katara with his signature Puppy Dog In Love Eyes and he gags. She takes the phone off speaker mode. 

"I'll see you in twenty?" she asks.

"See you in twenty."

~~~~~

The streetlights are pretty this time of evening, blending in with the sky. It smells like rain in the air, and Zuko wouldn't be surprised if it started pouring on him out of nowhere. 

He's almost halfway back to his apartment now, close to the coffee shop he came from this morning. The streets are starting to empty, the quieter part of Ba Sing Se beginning to settle in for the night. Zuko wonders if the rest of the city is the same way. Even after four years living here he still hasn't ventured out of walking distance from his apartment, both from fear of Ozai and Azula's retribution and because he doesn't have a car. Azula does, but he doesn't like her keeping tabs on him. (Well, more than she already is.)

It's different here than the Caldera, where he grew up. Everything was loud and bright and overwhelming there. Maybe his bad memories of home just taint the place, but Zuko never looks forward to going back now.

He used to be so homesick, so lost, in the months after he got sent away. He still longs for home, a little bit, but he doesn't think he could be happy there, anymore. Not now that he has passions for something other than what his father told him he could.

Zuko gets shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of a guitar playing. He turns his head to locate the music, and sees the same boy as in the morning. Still just as pretty as before. 

He's singing a song, loud and heavy and light at the same time. It's not one that Zuko recognizes, but he's entranced. 

_Laid up in bed, you were laid up in bed._

_Holding_ _the pain like you're holding your breath._

_I prayed you could sleep, sleep like a stone._

_You're right next to me._

_But you're a long way from home._

The guy's voice is pretty and rough. It's _honest_ , and coupled with the lyrics of the song, Zuko is having an overload of emotions and feeling some sort of way. It's not quite nostalgia, but it's the feeling of understanding, almost a home in the making. 

Which is a dangerous and idiotic way to think about a stranger. 

Zuko realizes he's been staring way too obviously as the guy turns and catches his eye. He looks at Zuko with amusement before continuing the next verse, and Zuko has no fucking clue what that means but he wants this man to be singing to him, even if the lyrics aren't all that cute.

And then he shakes some sense into himself and the sheer awkwardness of this takes over. What the hell is he doing, standing out on the street staring at some random guy? At this point he's been watching too long to just leave, but it's not like he has money for tips and he doesn't want to look like a _complete_ asshole. 

Zuko shuffles his feet clumsily, not quite able to decide whether he should just run away from all of _this_ , or whether to stay and...do--something? Apologize? Promise to pay him some other time?

_Agni_ , it sounds stupid even in his head. If he concentrates hard enough he can even hear Azula mocking him. 

He's going to leave.

He's _going_ to.

He's--

Yeah, no. The guy's eyes are back on him and he's missed his chance to bolt. A shame, now no one will ever know if Zuko would've mustered up the courage. ~~(He wouldn't have.)~~

He finishes his song on a single strum and a low note, sending involuntary shudders up Zuko's back. _Get it together, Zuko._

Zuko is pinned to the concrete where he stands by some invisible force, waiting awkwardly for the boy to pack up, eyes zeroing in on the pavement below but chasing quick glimpses of him. The boy haphazardly shoves everything from inside his guitar case into a small backpack littered with colorful pins, before gently closing the lid on his guitar. His case a unique and unusual color, Zuko thinks, pastel blue with chipped silvery paint on the copper latches. 

"I'm Sokka." 

Zuko blinks in surprise and looks up to meet the boy's, _Sokka's_ , eyes. "I'm Zuko." He holds out his hand for a handshake, before realizing that's probably weird for an informal introduction with a guy his age. Zuko pulls his hand away...just as Sokka's hand reaches out to _accept_ it. Sokka's hand hangs in the air a moment, and Zuko stares dumbly before hastily grabbing on with way more grip than necessary.

_Agni, this is already a whole disaster._

Jerking away as if he's been burnt, Zuko coughs stiffly to the side, blushing. 

Sokka rubs the back of his neck, looking just as awkward. "So...was there something you wanted to ask me? Or..." He trails off, leaving the question hanging.

"I--no! Umm, maybe apologize? I was watching you and I don't have any money to give you. Sorry," Zuko fumbles out. He knows he's said something wrong, as Sokka bristles at the words.

"I'm not a charity case or something. You're not _obligated_ to give me anything." He sounds annoyed now, and Zuko rushes to correct himself.

"Not like that! You were just really good and I--wanted...to."

"Oh." Sokka's face darkens in a blush and Zuko can feel his own cheeks get hot. 

"Anyways! I should get going then!" Zuko exclaims, but makes no move to go.

"Yeah, I'm--my friends. Yeah." 

"Okay. Yeah, okay," Zuko says and turns, taking a few steps down the sidewalk.

"Wait!" Zuko turns back around. Sokka's rubbing his neck again. "Do you have a ride? My friends are stopping by in a minute. We could take you back home, or you could hang around with us for a bit?"

Zuko stares blankly at him. _Is he asking Zuko to spend time with him?_

Sokka must interpret Zuko's stare as creeped out, because he quickly stumbles over his next words. "Sorry, that sounds so stalker-ish, of course you don't have to if you don't want to! It's just getting sort of dark and I thought you might want not want to be alone."

_I don't,_ Zuko thinks. _I would really, really like to go with you._

But he also has his father and Azula to worry about. They might actually murder him if they caught him out with people who weren't thoroughly vetted and scrutinized first. 

(And judging by Sokka's beat up sneakers and tiny bi pride pins on his backpack, he would never make the cut.)

And Sokka’s giving him an easy out.

"I'm sorry, that sounds lovely," Zuko says, hoping his regret is evident enough in his voice. (And who the _hell_ says 'lovely'??) "But I don't think I can accept. I hope you guys have a good time, though?" He says the last part like a question, and mentally curses at how rude that sounds.

Sokka looks close to disappointed, but Zuko isn't sure if that's just the thick shadows of the buildings falling across his face. "Oh, okay. Well, that's alright, maybe some other time?"

_There's not going to be some other time._

"Yeah, maybe some other time," Zuko agrees. He starts to shuffle away. "I need to--" He tilts his head in the direction of his apartment. 

"Oh, yeah. Well, goodbye then. Have a good night!" Sokka says, trying to sound upbeat but falling slightly flat. He moves his hand up as if to wave, then drops it quickly. 

"Well...good night." Zuko gives Sokka one last meaningful look, without really knowing what he actually means to convey, and starts to walk away, footsteps echoing loudly on the pavement.

~~~~~

Sokka is all too aware of his hand as it drops back to his side, burning to grasp onto Zuko's and do something _incredibly_ fucking stupid like maybe ask him out, or, Tui and La _forbid_ , ask to _kiss_ him. Curling his fingers into his palms, he respectfully turns away instead, scrolling through his phone until Suki drives up with the rest of his friend group in tow. 

It's not until Sokka gets to the bottom of his bubble tea that he realizes he never asked Zuko for his number like he meant to. 

~~~~~

Zuko slides off his shoes and peels off his wet socks. It had started raining, _hard_ , almost as soon as he turned the block, out of Sokka's sight. It's almost like a shitty romance novel or something. 

But it's not, and he knows this because of the piano and his scar and Ozai and fucking _Jet._ If only he _was_ the main character, maybe then he could afford to go hang out with pretty boys and their friends, but he's not. 

He's _not_ and he knows this.

Right now, he just needs to keep his focus on what he's _supposed_ to do, and that's not going to happen if he's having fantasies of some unattainable life that's not his to be lived.

Zuko sets his keys down on the kitchen counter and leaves his backpack on the floor to go take a shower, sighing entirely too dramatically as he goes. Maybe, _hopefully_ , he'll be able to wash away any residue of his feelings from today. Agni knows he could stand to forget. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. zuko’s inner monologue is so dramatic, i know, BUT in my defense i like prose(?) and zuko is a dramatic motherfucker sometimes (lightning speech, anybody?)
> 
> i do Not have an updating schedule (although i do have an outline, which i usually don’t so,,, YAY ME i guess) i am more focused on the other fic i’m writing that i promised weekly updates for (and am currently failing at) so this one will get updated as i get motivated to write it :))
> 
> i’m sorry, i’m so weird today, y’all just have to deal with that i guess. if this is your first introduction to me, it actually probably doesn’t get any better from here on out so (:<
> 
> let me know if you have any thoughts!! and if you want to, you can find me on tumblr at @blueseakelp (i will probably link it later but i am so Tired rn shnvddsd)
> 
> oh also! this was partly inspired by hella1975 (who is currently writing an amazing fic called “the art of burning”, p l e a s e check it out if you haven’t, i promise you’ll love it) again, i am so lazy rn so it is not yet linked
> 
> well, that’s about all for today loves! please stay safe, drink some water, eat something, and consider going to sleep!! (also don’t sit on your knees too long without stretching them out!!! they Will hurt)
> 
> see y’all sometime 
> 
> -ash :)
> 
> edit, sort of: i know barely anything about music (for reference, i though chopin was pronounced “chop-in” until last december), so please don’t be upset if i bend the rules (?) a little bit! <33


	2. everytime you keysmash, a gay gets their wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> school at ba sing se start up again, and our two favorite dumbasses have big dumbass feelings. <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i kinda hate myself, i had literally a whole two long ass notes written out and then the page fucking reloaded. don’t be dumb like me, kids, save your author’s notes. none of your jokes will be as funny the second time you write them. 
> 
> {n. amorange: 
> 
> [ah-mohrnj]
> 
> 1\. one's stretch of platonic love for someone they may never fully know, but wish to anyway
> 
> 2\. one's complex feeling of yearning for closeness with someone who is almost a stranger to them}
> 
> so this is here so y’all know what the word means when it pops up. (tell me if i’m wrong, my memory is shit) but lordrei came up with this, as a rhyming word to orange, and i, thinking it’s an absolute travesty that nothing rhymes with orange, decided to integrate it into my personality. i will now be forcibly inserting it into the english language. step one of Give Orange A Fucking Rhyme is underway. 
> 
> this is kinda a longish fucking chapter so if you hate that, sorry. suffer, i guess. (or click away? i can’t exactly tell you what to do with your time)
> 
> anyways, hope it doesn’t disappoint (i’m 100% SURE i had something fucking witty to say here but i forget it and lost it when ao3 erased my notes so oof ouch for me)

Being sad over cute boys aside, Sokka likes this night a lot. Hanging out with his friends is fun, and especially on a night like this when they can all just let loose a little. After the Jasmine Dragon and splashing around the town in the rain a bit, they all came back to Katara and Sokka's house, Hakoda and Bato both home to make sure they didn't do something stupid like burn the house down or give themselves alcohol poisoning. They're planning to all sleep over tonight, as is tradition, and they're all currently sprawled out across the living room.

“Guys guys guys! Yue sent me a good luck message!” Suki hangs off the couch head down and squints at the bright light of her phone.

“Ooh, what does it say? Read it out loud!” Aang responds.

“Hey that’s fucking private,” she says lightheartedly. “But she did send me a cute picture of her fish. The caption says: ‘Look at them!! s-'"

  
“Stop trying to read keysmashes aloud,” Toph grumbles. “It doesn’t work. I should know, with the stupid fucking screen reader reading every individual letter.” She faceplants into the pillow.

  
“E-ver-y time you keysmash, a gay gets their wings.” Sokka says, very cleverly.

  
Katara hits him over the head with a pillow, which fucking _hurts,_ by the way. “This is blatant pan erasure.”

  
“Katara, I’m _bi._ ” Sokka pouts. 

  
“Bi-pan solidarity” Suki says.

  
“I’ll drink to that.” Aang chugs a shot of water. 

"I'm really gonna miss you guys." Sokka suddenly feels misty eyed, and scrunches his face up at the ceiling.

"Don't say it like that," Toph says. "It's not like you're moving or anything. If you were going away for real I'd make sure to beat your ass first." 

It's only moving from Omashu High School to Ba Sing Se Private, but Sokka's going to miss all _this_ all the same. Hanging out with Toph and Suki and Aang (and _yes,_ even Katara). It's not like he'll have a shortage of opportunities to mess around and be dumb as fuck with them, or at least he tries to think about it that way. 

Part of him worries that once they finally get time away from him, they'll realize how spirits-damned annoying he is and just drop him from the group altogether. They'd be plenty nice about it, sure, but it'd still mean that Sokka wasn't needed, wasn't _wanted._

Aang comes over and plops down next to him. "At least we still get to spend all our weekends together!" 

Suki snorts. "You can text us _everyday_ to complain about your rich pretty-boy school," she sing-songs. "Besides, you're still going to work at the dojo, right?" 

"On weekends, yeah," Sokka confirms.

Katara mock huffs at him. "We all get it, there'll be no shortage of me having to deal with you chaotic motherfuckers. Now are we going to build a pillow fort or not?"

~~~~~

Sokka gets ready for bed, mind turning with anticipation for school tomorrow. As he quiets down to sleep though, one name keeps popping in his head that sticks no matter how he tries to shove out. 

_Zuko, Zuko, Zuko._

~~~~~

Every day, Zuko rises with the sun. He's not exactly sure why, but it seems to be another way he takes after his father. The first way, and the one Zuko hates the most, is both of their explosive tempers. 

Maybe it's genetics, maybe it's a product of his environment, or maybe Zuko was just doomed to be fucked up, but his mind's built like a kettle, piping hot and ready to burst at any time, frustration and powerlessness and anger only adding fuel to the fire. He used to be worse, shouting and slamming doors and punching walls, being generally rude to everyone around him. It hadn't exactly done anything, except get him slapped around a bit and proceed to make him feel like shit, so since then he's started turning his anger further inward, screaming into pillows and punching into his legs and generally being self destructive about it. Zuko is aware that it's not healthy. He's also aware that it's the exact opposite of his father and he wants to keep it that way.

Having his own apartment has helped ease the boiling a little bit. Especially with his cello. Zuko's playing used to be a bother to everyone around him, Ozai getting furious that he wasn't putting in more time to practice piano instead, and Azula generally just annoyed at everything and taking it out on him because she could. 

Now though, his cello is his safe haven whenever he needs it to be. Besides pretty much resenting his existence, it's probably the thing that Ozai hates the most about him. 

It's a part of him that's his mother's. 

Ursa used to play, professionally actually, and she started to teach Zuko cello when he expressed interest. She was the one who first pushed for Azula and Zuko to be allowed music, and she was also the first one to leave them behind to his impossible standards. She left her own cello behind the night she left. (Zuko likes to think it was for him, but she didn't leave slowly, and he honestly has no way of knowing.) Of course, that's been long smashed now, in another of Ozai's fits of rage. 

(He actually apologized in that instance. Left a note on the fridge one day, which was quite impressive and probably also because Azula was attached to that cello for whatever reason. It was about a year after the scar incident and Zuko hadn't played since but had dragged the cello out of some dusty cupboard just to see if he _could,_ and obviously the poor cello paid the price of his sins.)

Zuko has his own now, after a few years of saving up, stashing money in little wall cracks and in slit-open bottoms of backpacks and rolled up in his socks. The moment he got his own apartment, he finally bought a cello, albeit a shitty old used one, as his secret little prize. It took him a bit for his fingers to remember how to slide across the strings just right, and he remembers the way his the soft pads of his fingertips took time to toughen up and stop hurting so much. But with time and meticulous practice he's gotten to a level of play that even he can't help but be a little proud of. 

He keeps his cello carefully dusted and set in its case in the broom closet, just in case his father drops by for a surprise visit. Zuko hopes to all things good in the world that never happens. 

As spontaneous as he's prone to being, Zuko thrives off of routine, and has developed a morning ritual of sorts. Wake up to the rising sun, brush his teeth, have one peelable orange and a glass of black coffee, take a shower, and then play his cello until he has to actually face the day.

Sometimes he focuses on a classical composer, sometimes he pulls up random music from strangers on the internet, and sometimes he just improvises, which is his favorite. Today is an improvise type of morning, he thinks, with the shit day he had yesterday. 

Classes at Ba Sing Se are starting up again, after a long summer break. He doesn't have to be to the school until 8:30, and he's determined to soak up every moment of peace he can. He'll give himself an hour to play, start getting ready at 7.

He's getting into it, getting caught up in the music, the notes swirling around him and rising and rising. Zuko plays loud and fast, channeling his frustration into the melody and the harshness and the dissonance of it all. If he ever got the chance to really introduce himself to someone, and if they were to ask him about what he enjoyed doing, this is exactly what he'd say. Because Zuko likes, Zuko _loves_ music. The cello doesn't ask him for anything except to be played, and he's more than happy to indulge. 

And then his phone rings.

Now. There are only two people who call him. Ozai, when he's fucking pissed or just wants to mess with Zuko's mind, and Azula mostly for the same reasons. Or if she needs him to bail her out. Neither of them are people he wants to hear from.

Hopefully it's a telemarketer.

Zuko sighs, and sets his cello gently against the wall, before picking up his phone and glancing at the caller ID. It's Ozai, which is probably the worst possible option right now. Zuko grits his teeth and picks up.

"Hello?"

"I'm hoping that you've learned something from your grades last year," his father says, which isn't the warmest of introductions.

Zuko isn't proud of his grades either. He ended the spring semester with two Bs, his math grade slipping dangerously close to a C. It doesn't mean he likes his father rubbing it back into his face at every opportunity. 

"I'm going to do my best," Zuko responds, trying to keep his voice carefully monotone. 

Ozai sighs with feeling, like Zuko is getting on his nerves. "You're going to do better than last year, or I'm moving you back here."

Annoyance flares up inside Zuko's mind, as much at himself as at his father. For Agni's sake, he's almost nineteen, he's an adult. He shouldn't allow himself to be kept under Ozai's thumb like this. And yet, he's still bending to his every whim. 

Zuko huffs, letting his emotions get the best of him, which is always a bad idea. "Father, is there anything you're going to say to me that couldn't be said in an email?"

It's not like he sends a shortage of them to Zuko, anyways. 

"I'm tired of the disrespect," Ozai snaps, voice cutting and making Zuko instinctively shrink, even over the phone. "I am your father, and you may not like me or want to be around me, but that doesn't mean you get a free pass for whatever bullshit issues you have. Fix your attitude. I'm cutting your stipend. You can keep the apartment, but find money for your own groceries and shit if you want to act all high and mighty. I'm giving you everything, _everything,_ and I can take it away just as easily. You can't leech off me and then turn around and repay me with this childishness. You will keep your grades up, and you _will_ be ready for the showcase. Do I make myself clear?"

Zuko squeezes his eyes shut, wishing he was closer to a wall he could bang his head against, just for effect. "Yes, Father." 

"I expect to see _results_." Zuko's phone beeps, signifying the end of the call. 

Clenching his fists in his hair, he backs up into a wall and sinks to the floor, feeling in him something too small to identify and too big to understand. 

~~~~~

"Sokka, get up, we're almost finished with the pancakes!" 

Sokka opens his eyes to Aang standing over him, looking cheerful as ever. Sokka rolls over from his place on the floor and shoves a pillow over his head to block out the light. "Go 'way, Aang." 

Aang, the little fucker, just kicks at him lightly. "Nope!" He tugs the pillow out of Sokka's hands. "Come on, up! You have school today that you have to get ready for. We're having a celebratory breakfast."

Sokka groans. "I still resent the fact that you all don't start until Wednesday. I don't wanna go."

Aang pulls at his arm. "Not an option! Now come get pancakes before Katara and Toph decide to hoard them all."

Well, Aang's underhanded tactics work. Sokka's up on his feet in an instant. "Not on my watch. Save some for me, I'm getting ready."

~~~~~

The mood already dampened for the day, Zuko can't bring himself to continue playing, instead banishing his cello back to the closet. That's relatable.

The small apartment feels dusty and claustrophobic. Zuko makes up his mattress in the corner and opens the windows to try and clear out the bad air, hoping for something lighter. Using cleaning spray and a rag, he gets to work dusting and scrubbing every exposed surface. If he cleans fast enough it's easier to ignore the shaking in his hands.

There's not much available surface area to clean, so Zuko soon moves onto all three of his pots and pans, turning the water up scalding hot and scouring the surface with a rough sponge. The combination makes his hands go red and burn, but he ignores it, throwing himself further into cleaning all the utensils and dishes until they shine. If his father's still going to pay for the apartment and his water bill, he's going to get the most use possible out of the ordeal.

This situation is an abrupt slap to the face, jolting Zuko into the reality of just how dependent he is on his father. A fucking adult, and he still can't get his shit together long enough to get out under Ozai's thumb. As much as he likes to convince himself that his situation is unique, and that there's nothing he can do about it, he's in no way self-sufficient. He may not be a traditional rich kid, but it is daddy's money that pays.

Maybe now he'll finally get off his ass and go job searching. He'd be good at dishwashing.

~~~~~

Sokka is having second thoughts about accepting that scholarship to Ba Sing Se. 

The pros of going to school today are as follows:

1\. Ba Sing Se is a good school, an internationally acclaimed school, in fact, and it will help him continue his engineering aspirations. It's an opportunity of a lifetime, and would be completely stupid to pass it up. This could be the gateway to a scholarship for a proper college, and that's something Sokka's been striving to achieve ever since he first got interested in aerospace engineering back in middle school. 

2\. He's enrolled. It's probably too late to drop out now without causing his dad and Uncle Bato and Gran Gran a shit ton of trouble, and he'd really rather not do that to them. They've been so happy for him and so supportive, and he would feel terrible letting them down. When they found out he got in, they threw a whole celebratory party and everything, and at this point dropping out kind of feels like quitting. 

3\. He wants to go, he really does. He was so excited when he got the scholarship letter, and he's been anticipating the start of school all summer. It's just the nerves that are getting the best of him, that's all. Sokka knows this, but it doesn't mean they're are going away. 

And the cons:

1\. Sure, Sokka _got_ the scholarship, but there's still the issue of keeping it. One of his biggest fears is flying through the first few weeks and his teachers realizing that maybe he never deserved to be there in the first place. What if he has to come home one day, and tell all his family and friends that he got kicked out? The impending doom of everyone finding out that he's not as smart as they all think is like a gavel looming over his head.

2\. In a school with a bunch of rich and proper kids, he's going to be the one with the second-hand uniform, the beat up car, thrift store textbooks, and shoes worn down to the soles. He's seen enough movies to know how this turns out. At least at Omashu everyone was on sort of the same back-alley level of riches. The whole acting correctly part of this experience is going to be kind of exhausting.

3\. He's going to be kind of lonely. Sokka doesn't know _anyone_ at BSS and he's really going to miss having his group of friends at Omashu. 

Well. 

Sokka splashes lukewarm sink water on his face, staring himself in the mirror as he dries his face. He can hear laughter from the other room, but he's no longer sure he wants to go face everyone just yet. He'll give himself just a few more minutes.

Sokka exits the bathroom and quietly slides across the hardwood floors to his room. He's got a uniform to put on, and a bag to pack. He may not be ready to face his friends yet, but he's determined to at least try and face the day. He's...got this.

For sure. 

~~~~~

Zuko avoids looking himself in the eyes in the mirror as he gets ready, quickly buttoning up his dress shirt and tightening his tie. He focuses on his fingers in the reflection, smoothing out wrinkles and looking not quite like his own. He looks down and wiggles them for a second, confirming that they are still connected to his hands. They are.

The sink has a new crack in it. Zuko had noticed it while he was on his cleaning spree. It's just a little one, spidering out from the preexisting cracks around the corners, but it's still there.

This whole bathroom is kind of shitty, walls supposed to be white, but lined with mildly concerning red and black stains that don't come off no matter how hard he scrubs. Cracks splinter the sink and the mirror, extending down through the floor and snaking up the walls. It looks like it's three seconds from collapsing completely at all times. He tried sprucing it up when he first moved in, buying some of those aesthetic hanging plants, but the tiny window in the top corner of the room didn't give off near enough sunlight to keep them alive. Now a lone spider plant sits in near the shower on top of some newspapers and paper towels, looking extremely sad, and collecting all the leaky water that tends to seep out. 

Zuko chances a curious glance at himself before he goes. His scar always pulls at his face, giving off the illusion of anger, but still his eyes look kind of empty to him. He smiles, bringing his fingers to his face to push up the corners of his mouth further, but it looks wrong on his face. 

Dropping it, he turns to go collect his school bag. He should probably take the extra time he has this morning and walk to school today, instead of wasting his money on the metro. 

~~~~~

Sokka stares at himself in the long mirror he has propped up against the wall of his bedroom. He has to admit, even being used and just slightly ragged at the edges, his uniform looks good on him. He sits down on the edge of his bed and quickly shuffles around his bookbag, making sure that his textbooks and notebooks are all there. And that he doesn't forget his pencils and pens. 

A knock on the door makes him startle a little bit. "Come in!"

His dad peeks his head in, sliding into the room. "Hey, Sokka. I've been wanting to talk to you, can I sit down?"

"Yeah," Sokka says, a bit nervously, but scooting over. "Is something wrong, Dad?"

His dad sits next to him, the old bed frame creaking as he does. "Nothing's wrong, Sokka. I just--" he sighs. "Look, I know things have been tough on you for a while, what with losing Mom, and me going away, and I want you to know that you can always come talk to me if you're ever having any problems, with school or anything else."

Sokka swallows the lump in his throat and nods, avoiding his eyes. "Yeah, Dad, I know that."

"I'm proud of you, Sokka." 

Sokka turns his head to look at his dad. His smile is warm, but Sokka thinks there might be sadness behind his eyes. 

"I'm very proud of you, no matter what you choose to do with your life. If that means going to Ba Sing Se, I'm going to be there to support you in any way you need. But if that means things get too stressful, or you decide that's not where you want to go anymore, I'll also support you then. I love you, son." 

Sokka doesn't know how, even after the all the empty space between them, his dad is still able to read him so easily. It makes him tear up, and Sokka ducks his face and blinks hard to keep them from falling. Part of him wants to just reach out and hug his dad, but he still feels slightly held back. He settles for smiling at him brightly, hands folded in his lap. 

"Thanks, Dad. I love you too."

~~~~~

Zuko forgot how much these stupid dress shoes hurt to walk in. He stares almost ruefully as he passes the coffee shop, and the little crevice across from it, where Sokka stood yesterday. He could use a song right about now. 

~~~~~

"Hey, look at you, finally joining us for breakfast," Toph remarks as Sokka walks in, back turned to him. 

Suki bursts out laughing when she sees him. "I like your tie," she remarks. "Very posh of you."

"Stop that," Sokka groans. "I _have_ to wear it, I hate it too." He sighs and walks over to kitchen counter, plopping himself up on one of the stools. "Don't tease me, I'm fragile."

"Don't listen to the haters, Sokka," Toph pipes up. "I think it looks very _dashing_." 

Sokka turns toward her and grins. "Thanks, Toph, at least _someone_ around here--Hey, that's mean!"

Toph cackles, slamming a hand down on the counter and making the dishes rattle. "You _always_ fall for that, Snoozles, I can't _not_ take the opportunity."

Suki looks at him, with a slightly fond smile. "You look nice, Sokka."

"Hey Sokka! I saved you some pancakes," Aang cuts in, emerging from the hallway and tilting his head to a plate. "They're kinda cold now, though."

Sokka flashes him a smile. "I appreciate it." He digs in and they're actually really good. 

Katara comes over as he's finishing. with Uncle Bato and Gran Gran and a polaroid camera. "Picture time, and all of you are going to _smile_ this time," she says, gathering up everyone behind the counter. Sokka is posed in the middle, Katara and Toph on either side of him, and he stretches out his arms as far as possible to squeeze everyone in.

"On three," Bato says, once everyone has been situated. "One, two, three!"

The camera flashes, as Sokka gives it his warmest smile, holding his friends as close as his reach allows.

~~~~~

Zuko's still about fifteen minutes early, when he finally gets to campus. There are a few other groups of students milling, walking around together and reuniting. He makes his way over to a quieter section of trees, and pulls out his laptop, glancing at his schedule taped to his planner as he does, confirming what he already knows.

First class: calculus. He can get a solid ten minutes of song production out of this before he heads over to the STEM building. 

~~~~~

Sokka grips his bookbag, staring down his beat up truck. He and his friends had taken the time to repaint it this summer, a sort of baby blue, and it sure looks better than before without as many chips in the coat. But it still doesn't look like something someone would drive to a private school.

Sokka tries not to be insecure. It doesn't matter, he tells himself. It really shouldn't matter what people think of him, and he's not ashamed of having a little less money than others. He doesn't need a fancy new car, doesn't even really _want_ it. He's proud of his family, and he's proud of his home.

But still, it makes him self-conscious, and he hates that. As much as he acts loud and sarcastic, and tries to stand out from the crowd, there are some times that he'd rather just fit in. Acceptance and conformity is easier to swallow than full-on rejection.

And yet, he's getting ahead of himself. Once again. Who's to say that anyone will care about the state of his car, or his socio-economic status? It's better to wait and see, before making judgements.

_Who's to say that anyone will care about him, at all?_

~~~~~

Sokka ended up arriving to campus only about 3 minutes shy of the bell, which he thinks deserves a mental pat on the back. He made it to first period history alright, government this year, and most of the class ended up being pretty easy introductory stuff. He likes his teacher alright, she seems nice enough, and not prone to yell at him for asking questions which is good. He has a homeroom class after this, where he's supposed to get some sort of guide that'll show him around the school. 

Walking around campus is weird here. Unlike Omashu, Ba Sing Se has a few separate buildings, meaning that he's walking to classes both within the school and outside. There's a STEM building, a humanities building, an arts building, and then a cafeteria and a few administrative ones. Most of them have multiple stories, which is also weird, compared to the flat layout of his old school. 

He has homeroom with one of the teachers in the STEM building (environmental science, he's pretty sure), and so he walks the flowerbed-lined pathways from the humanities building over. When he gets to the STEM building, he opens the door, and holds it for a few students who give him grateful nods, and he slips inside. 

There's a lot more people inside here than there were outside or in the humanities building, and Sokka has to be careful not to bump into anyone. Through the hustle and bustle, he picks out a few faces, but none of them look familiar until--

_Is that Zuko?_

He's hard to miss, what with the scar and everything. The boy's hair slightly obscures his face, and he keeps his head turned down toward his shoes, but it's him. Right? 

Sokka doesn't get a chance to go over and talk to him, as the boy walks away and slips through the crowd, getting lost in the cacophony of same uniforms and blurry faces. 

Maybe it wasn't even him. Maybe Sokka just wanted a familiar face, so desperately that his mind started to twist the shadows, just a little bit. It's plausible. 

At least Sokka didn't yell out his name and embarrass himself.

Paying attention to where you're going is a valuable skill to have. It's also one that Sokka lacks about 90% of the time, and now the girl he just realizes he bumped into doesn't look very happy about it. Which is understandable.

"I'm sorry," he says, hurrying to get out of the way. 

She stops, fully stops, right there in the middle of the hallway, and grabs his arm, her sharp fingernails digging into his skin. Sokka looks around at the other students, but none of them look particularly surprised or distressed. The girl looks him up and down, looking at like him like he's something on the bottom of her shoe.

"I'm not sure how you snuck in here, but I'd watch where I was going if I were you." 

Sokka feels kind of offended, but more confused. This feels kind of dramatic, but maybe he's reading into it too much. The way she's grabbing him kind of hurts, though, and it's annoying him.

"I said I was sorry, now could you let me go?" he asks, trying to stay pleasant.

She looks at him like she's going to refuse, but one of the girls next to her, bubbly-looking and wearing bright pink lipstick, puts a hand on her shoulder. "Azula, we should get going. Class is starting soon."

The girl, Azula, considers for another moment, before letting go. "Not like he's worth my time, anyway." She sidesteps him and walks away, the bubbly girl and another one with space buns following behind her. 

Sokka blinks a few times to clear his head, and continues on up the stairs to his homeroom class.

~~~~~

When Sokka walks into class, about half of the desks are already filled, and standing beside the teacher's desk is a guy with spiky hair who Sokka assumes is the one that's going to show him around. 

"I'm Jet," the guy introduces, holding out a hand, an easy smile on his lips, a glint in his eyes. 

"Jet's a fellow scholarship student," the teacher says, praising. "He's one of my best." 

Jet smiles wider, hard enough that his cheeks tighten. "I'll show you around. Is it alright if we take the period, Ms. Min?" 

"Yes, of course, feel free. I'll mark you two down for attendance," Ms. Min says, and turns back to her desk. 

"Great," Jet says and drags him out of the room. 

"Where are you planning to show me?" Sokka asks, as they go. "I'm not really well acquainted." 

Jet lets go of his arm and stops walking, looking at Sokka as if he can't be serious. "You actually wanted a tour?"

Sokka blinks at him. "Well...that seems like kind of the point." 

Jet sighs, and picks up the pace again. "Yeah, sure, come on, I'll show you to the library."

They fall into an awkward silence for a few couple of minutes. Sokka isn't quite sure if he should say something, and he feels like he's already done something wrong in this conversation, so he lets it be. He gets a weird vibe from this kid.

"The library." Jet stops abruptly and waves a hand at a door. They're over in the performing arts building, and Sokka isn't exactly sure who decided to put the library there. 

"Are we going inside?" Sokka inquires, wondering if he's making a mistake by asking.

Jet snorts. "Fuck, sure, if you want." He opens the door and gives a dramatic flourish as Sokka walks inside. 

Hmm. It's a pretty cool fucking library, that much is for sure. Sokka kind of wants to explore, but Jet is leaning against the wall impatiently, and so he decides he'd rather just come back later. 

Jet follows him out, giving him a critical look. "So. What do you think of it, here?"

Sokka twists his hands as he walks, not sure what to say. Has he even been here long enough to form a valid opinion? "I don't know. It's fine, confusing a bit. I had a run in with a girl in the halls earlier."

Jet laughs. "Three guesses as to who that is. Azula?"

Sokka nods. "Is it--a common occurrence?"

Jet tilts his head. "What, her being a bitch? Because if that's what you're asking about, yeah. Fuckers here just let her get away with it, too."

Sokka hums. "I mean, yeah she was kinda a bitch to me, but--I don't know, if she was trying to be mean, she was doing a pretty lame job of it? She grabbed my arm, that hurt. But other than that? Not very intimidating."

Jet snorts again. "That's just how she is, not very aware of things. Her father's money is more intimidating than she is. Most people leave it be, but if she gives you real trouble, let me know, alright?"

"Well, what are you gonna do about it?" Sokka asks, incredulously. "You said it yourself, most people look the other way. I'm assuming that includes staff."

Jet looks back at him, the same glint as earlier in his eyes. "You wanna know a secret?"

Sokka thinks it's a rhetorical question, but after a moment it's clear that Jet's looking for a response, so he nods. "Sure."

"I hate almost everyone here." Jet leans in, talking conspiratorially, like it's some kind of big reveal. "I do bad things, and I get away with it. Perfect angel the teachers all think I am, I'm not even suspected. Rich folks around this fancy dump don't understand life, not like we do, and someday I'm gonna do big things to change that. For now, though, I'm biding my time. Gotta keep my scholarship somehow."

Sokka wants to ask, _Who hurt you?,_ but he also understands that there's probably at least some merit to what Jet's saying. Weird vibes. He hums again. "Sure." 

"So, again, if that bitch is giving you trouble, bring it to me." 

"...Thanks, Jet."

"Good." Jet gives Sokka an appraising look, before walking ahead of Sokka again, fast and looking self satisfied. Sokka blinks before hurrying along behind him.

~~~~~

The day goes slow, like molasses. Zuko grazes through his classes, taking notes and keeping his head down as much as possible. He doesn't want any trouble with anyone this year, not on top of everything else. He's currently in the process of avoiding both Jet and his Freedom Fighters, and Azula and her group of friends. Both of them seem to have it out for him, and while their reasoning ranges from valid to dodgy at best, he doesn't really give a fuck.

When the bell finally rings, signalling his lunch period, Zuko snakes out of his economics class and out to the little gathering of trees that he was working at earlier this morning. He's not super hungry for lunch, and he got a sudden burst of inspiration during the last few minutes of his English lit class that he's been itching to put into practice for a good three hours now. 

If it means that his English notes are scrawled over and unfinished with little ideas for melodies or sound effects or song concepts, then so be it. When Zuko's in his creative space, it's easier to shut out the reality of responsibility. Probably it will bit him in the ass later, but _for_ _now--_

For now he's going to find solace in the making. 

~~~~~

As soon as it's clear that everyone in the cafeteria has something to buy or someone to sit with, and everyone else has fucking scrammed, Sokka makes the decision to fucking scram. He walks out to the student parking lot and locates his car, easily standing out amongst the sea of shiny metal. 

Maybe he's just doing the parking lot a favor, by spicing it up a bit. Not much pleasure in monotony.

Sokka brought his guitar today, mostly to destress, and so he could get some busking in if he decided on a whim he wanted to. He takes it out of the trunk, and starts wandering around campus to find a quiet spot to play, preferably not around any other people. 

After a few minutes, he stumbles across a little gathering of trees that looks pretty private and empty, and far enough removed from the school buildings that he feels comfortable. The trees are big and wide enough that he can lean his whole back against them and still have space left over, which is kind of comforting. It's a peaceful setting, with the wind blowing just enough and the trees' branches bending over with the weight of the air. Sokka also has a soft spot for these little havens of nature in the middle of a city like Ba Sing Se. He sets up facing away from the school, and places his guitar case in front of him.

He opens his chipped blue and silver case, only to have a piece of paper almost fly away in the wind. Scrambling over himself, he rushes to catch it in his fist. Now a little wrinkled and dirty, he tries to smooth it out, and looks at the pretty calligraphy on it, in Katara's script. 

It's a good luck card. He opens it, finding little sweet notes written in from each of his friends and family members, some of his favorite teachers from Omashu, and it looks like they even got Uncle Iroh from the Jasmine Dragon to write a small proverb in there. Sokka sees Toph's dictated note, in Aang's handwriting, with all the swears neatly censored, and a small scribble that stands in for her name and covers half of the message. All of it makes him go soft inside. His friends, they all _planned_ this. There was effort and execution and so much thought behind just this little card and it's a reminder to him of how deeply caring they are to him.

Spirits, he misses having them around at school already. How did they know? This small gesture means so much, and not only the card, but the fact that they put it in his guitar case, knowing that he'd specifically find it. 

His heart is going to be mush at this rate. 

Sokka gets out his guitar. He was intending for a little pity lament to commemorate his friendless first day here, but he thinks maybe he'll sing something a bit happier now.

~~~~~

Somewhere to the right of where he's working, music paused while he writes out a few corrections, Zuko hears lilting notes from a guitar and a rough voice to go along with it. He immediately thinks of Sokka, but--

_That can't be him, can it?_

Zuko peaks around the tree where he's sitting and _holy shit, it is._

His mind is racing with questions. Why hasn't he seen Sokka before? Is he new here? _What the hell?_

When he said he didn't want any distractions this year, he _meant_ it. Sokka starts up a new song and Zuko chances a second glance.

_Maybe meant it._

Agni, this is so much worse than never seeing Sokka again. How is Zuko supposed to go this entire school year knowing that Sokka is only as far as the another classroom on campus? 

His dumb gayass little brain won't shut up, and is currently absolutely failing him. 

_Ignore him,_ is the only helpful thing he can supply himself, and...yeah. If running from his problems was a marathon, Zuko would be past the finish line and back for another 26.2 miles already. He can do it. 

He can do it. 

Zuko sighs at himself and leans his head back on the tree, enough to thump it. He'll give himself today and today only to listen to Pretty Boy Sokka's voice, and then he'll find a new fucking lunch spot. 

Repression for the win.

~~~~~

Sokka hears a thump nearby, and abruptly stops playing. He thought he was alone, but apparently that's not the case, and apparently whoever's been listening in for who knows how long doesn't believe in introductions. 

Fine. 

Sokka picks up his guitar, and plays it in a way that some might even consider obnoxious, singing loudly and hoping he annoys the fuck out of whoever decided they wanted a ticket to the concert. They can have it.

~~~~~

Zuko thinks that Sokka's playing, loud and fast, is one of the most beautiful sounds he's heard. Sokka sings like he's trying to chase the whole world away, and it makes Zuko feel things in his chest. 

Probably stupid infatuation things. 

...It doesn't hurt one bit.

Not at all.

~~~~~

The bell rings, and Sokka _isn't_ mildly disappointed that whoever was listening to him didn't show themselves. Really, he hopes they got annoyed and went away. Sokka is absolutely not fucking lonely and it totally wouldn't have been like the start of those cheesy romance novels that Katara likes to hoard and Sokka likes to steal. 

He trudges to his next class, ignoring the tugging in his chest.

~~~~~

By the time Zuko gets home, the amorange has settled deep in his bones, a soul sucking little parasite. 

It's so stupid, all this yearning and for what? Knowing that Sokka is this close isn't going to change a damn thing. He's still unattainable, and Zuko still has the problems of school, the concert, and his fucking father to be concerned with, not this bullshit. 

He dumps his backpack on his mattress, shoes laid neatly by the door and phone left on the counter. He follows the bag, flopping dramatically onto the mattress and staring up at the shitty ceiling, arms sprawled out across the top of the sheets. 

Pulling out his English homework, he starts redoing the notes he missed.

~~~~~

Katara is the one who opens the door for Sokka when he arrives home. "Hey, Sokka," she says, letting him in. "Did you get the card we made for you?"

Sokka smiles at the reminder of it as he unceremoniously kicks off his shoes. "Yeah, I did." 

"Oh, good! We weren't sure if you would actually get around to opening your guitar, but putting it in your backpack seemed too obvious. Did you like it?"

"I loved it, dumbass," Sokka says, flicking her on the forehead hard. "Thanks, Katara."

Katara rolls her eyes and rubs at her forehead, flicking him back on the chin. "I don't know why I do what I do," she says, pouting. "You don't even appreciate me." 

"Because you _love_ me," Sokka singsongs, and then runs away before she smacks him, because he can't handle any more sincerity and emotions today. 

Somehow, he hope she hears the _I appreciate you, I really do._

~~~~~

Zuko wakes up to a pounding on his door, night and the residue of distant neon lights seeping through his window. He rubs his eyes blearily, not even realizing he had fallen asleep. The knocking continues, loudly and sloppily, and Zuko isn't ready for this visitation session. 

Shoving the English papers on his chest roughly aside, he gets up and checks the time, stomping over to the door. It's already 1:24 AM.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming. Hold on," he snaps to no one, annoyed.

As suspected, opening the door reveals Azula, most likely drunk, less likely high off crack or some illegal drug, but looking like shit all the same. 

"Hi, Zuzu," she says, pushing her way into the house. 

" _Really_? Our very first day back." Zuko sighs and gets out a glass of water, slamming it down in front of her where she occupies the only chair at his tiny table. "Drink." 

She takes it, and uses two hands to carefully maneuver it to her mouth. He stares at her while she does it, gaze questioning. "Did you drive here?" 

Azula taps her chin, as if thinking, and lets out a small giggle. "Yeah, Zu-zu." She draws out his nickname like a dotted half note, suspending it in midair. 

He sighs. At her, for doing this stupid shit again, at him for not doing something to take care of her, or at Ozai for making this possible, he doesn't quite know. "Give me the keys, Azula. Where did you park your car?" 

"What if I want to keep them?" Azula asks, pouting, but hands the keys over all the same. "I parked by some bushes. I think. Maybe. Could've been anything really." She giggles again, and the childlike sound feels like it belongs in a past lifetime.

Zuko rolls his eyes. That description really narrows it down. Bushes. Noted. He takes the empty glass and refills it, setting it down in front of her once more. "Water shots. Drink it." 

Stepping over to the closet, he drags his spare futon out, the one he finally splurged on after this started becoming a common occurrence. He's careful not to touch the cello; he doesn't want it making noise and Azula deciding that she's qualified to investigate. He sets up the futon in the kitchen part of the main room, and goes back to grab a few sheets from his mattress, clearing his school things and taking them with him. Azula always insists on having his bed when she stays over, and he's not exactly inclined to argue when she's like this. If she needs fucking sleep, he might as well let her take the bed. 

"Listen, I'm going to go park your car and grab a few things from the store. I'm taking my phone with me, so call me if you have any problems. You can take a shower if you want to, or go straight to bed, I don't really care. Don't do something fucking stupid; I'll be back, Azula." 

"Bye bye, Zuzu," Azula says, chugging the last of her water and waving. Zuko turns and walks out the door.

~~~~~

After finally locating Azula's car and parking it in his perpetually empty designated parking space, he heads in the direction of the 24 hour convenience store, just a few blocks away. 

Driving would be faster, but his depth perception is already fucked without the added challenge of nighttime to worsen his overall sight. And besides, he needs to clear his head. 

When did this become a routine? Honestly by now, Zuko should just keep breakfast items stocked instead of having to walk to the store in the middle of the night. The checkout worker on shift seems pretty concerned for him at this point, and he doesn't blame them. 

It's a short walk, Zuko's head filled with an abundance of absolutely nothing. He doesn't really contemplate why Azula does what she does at this point. If Zuko really thought Azula would help him, or even _let_ him get away with it, he might start making a habit of alcoholism too. As it stands, though, he's got no one's door to pound on at one in the morning, demanding a place to stay. 

Well, at this point Azula's not really demanding, is she? Zuko's freely giving it to her. Yeah sure, he should probably stop enabling whatever this is, because it's obviously not helping her. But some part of him wants to feel like the protective big brother again, to make up for all the times he wasn't there for her. Maybe some bit of him also feels like he can atone for their father's crimes, if he tries hard enough to put her back together again.

(There's not really a together, though, when your entire life has been apart. At this point, it's more like salvaging what's left of the broken pieces.)

The worker at the counter is the same again, and they both eye each other with a sort of What The Fuck Neither Of Us Should Be Here At This Hour sort of look. Zuko nods to them, and they nod back, a shared camaraderie in this liminal space. Zuko gets his stuff rung up, politely thanks the worker, and gets the fuck out.

He checks his phone on his way out the sliding faux-glass doors, trying to make doubly sure that he doesn't have any missed calls from Azula, and notices a lone email notification staring menacingly up at him instead. It's from Ozai, of course. 

Zuko sighs, remembering the conversation from this morning that he's tried so hard to shove to the back of his mind. Swiping at the notification to get it off his screen, he turns back inside to go purchase a local newspaper. 

Apparently, job hunting starts tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk any of my bullshit characterizations or plots are working. I Sure Fucking Hope They Are. (also sorry in advance? hindsight? i swear a lot(?) when i’m tired) *raises a fancy wine glass filled with water* here’s to whatever the fuck 7k words of that was
> 
> (i do actually eat an orange every morning right after brushing my teeth. am i a psychopath? hopefully not.)
> 
> all y’all who left comments or kudos or bookmarks or anything on last chapter, you have my heart. i love you guys sm y’all have my whole heart hhhh <33
> 
> is it fucking obvious that my projection characters are zuko, sokka, and azula? well if you just found out,,, welcome to unwelcome knowledge, i hate it here too
> 
> there is an incredibly specific vibe i have for this fic, which is basically just Seattle, except my romanticised childhood version of it. 
> 
> if you came from my last chapter, you probably found out that i never linked anything. my promises to do things are kind of bullshit, please assume i’m never going to get motivated for them. anyways, i’m going to link my tumblr now, in three, two, oneOH LOOK THERE IT IS  
> [ tumblr ](https://blueseakelp.tumblr.com)
> 
> hopefully that worked.
> 
> if you don’t find me funny, don’t worry, most people don’t. please indulge me i’m tired <33
> 
> it’s past 3 am now and i promised to go to sleep a while ago so,,, yeah. anyways, thank you all, please get some water, UNCLENCH YOUR JAW DO IT, open a window somewhere, and get some fucking rest Please !! see y’all soon <3
> 
> -ash :))
> 
> (edit: is my tumblr link even working? it doesn’t do anything when i click on it,,, I Definitively Hate It Here)


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